


"You're Safe Now"

by rahelawriter



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Facial touching, Female Warrior of Light - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Autistic Original Character, Mentions of Mental Trauma, Near Death Experiences, Possession, Post-Praetorium, Sleeping Together, Stimming, Watching Someone Sleep, hair feeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 21:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8417662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rahelawriter/pseuds/rahelawriter
Summary: The dust has settled for the Scions after the conclusion of Operation Archon, and the Warrior of Light decides to get reacquainted with a recently returned loved one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This may be one of my most self-indulgent fanfics yet, but I enjoyed putting to words some headcanons that I've had for a long while.

Hands clasped together. Fingers twiddling. Tail flicking. Feet moving one in front of the other. Complete silence.

The lanterns illuminating the halls of the Waking Sands had been put out for the night, save for one or two used for the benefit of the men in the Immortal Flames garb working the night shift of guarding the place. Rahela took care not to disturb them as she tiptoed through the dark hallway, looking for the room she wanted to enter. The hallway in question led to the Scions’ private quarters, often unused when the Archons were away on assignments, but one in particular was most definitely occupied now, and in that room was the one whom the Warrior of Light intended to visit. And as expected, there was a guard standing watch at the door. She’d have to get his permission to go in, so there was no helping it; Rah mustered her courage to initiate conversation, but the tall man noticed her first.

“Is there a problem, adventurer?”

“Er, uh, no, I was only thinking about checking on--”

“He’s already taken his sleeping potion for the night, ma’am. No one is to wake him.”

“I won’t wake him, I just, uh…” Already she felt her face going warm, hands gripping tighter, tail swishing back and forth, all betraying her anxiousness as she wracked her brain, thinking of a way to make her request sound remotely normal. “I-I-I, I just wanted, ah, to make sure he’s okay.” The guard raised an eyebrow at this, and she gave up trying to explain herself. “Please, just let me in, I promise I won’t do anything!”

The highlander did not respond for a moment, but finally sighed through his nose and shrugged, but said nothing else as he turned to open the door for her. Not as smooth an entry as Rahela would have liked; she could practically hear her mother scolding her for getting flustered and stuttering with barely any provocation. She could face down the Black Wolf and the Ultima Weapon with raw determination, but could barely ask for permission to enter a room. As the Warrior of Light, she had gained a reputation for not speaking much; but the truth was that Rahela preferred to only speak when she was comfortable with doing so, and she was often only comfortable with doing so while in the company of trusted friends.

But the point being, Rahela was permitted to enter the room, and the door was closed behind her. The room turned pitch-black and the only noise was the low sound of even breathing. And there, laying in bed and tucked under the covers, in a deep, alchemically-induced slumber, was Thancred.

While her eyes adjusted to the dark room, she made her way across to sit at his bedside. Rah exhaled with relief sitting herself onto the bed, glad to be near him again. His recovery was making good progress, no longer looking like the starved husk of a man who had been rescued from the Praetorium, more-dead-than-alive. But his ongoing physical and mental recovery was a long, arduous process. After nearly a fortnight of intensive care at Frondale’s Phronistery after the conclusion of Operation Archon, and another eight nights’ treatment after the subsequent victory celebration, it was only earlier that day that Thancred had been deemed well enough to return home to the Sands. But he was still bedridden most of the time, needing crutches for whenever he wanted to walk, and regular meals were a definite must. He’d already been running himself ragged before Lahabrea took full possession over him, and once he took control, the Ascian never stopped to feed or rest his host body; on top of the fact that Thancred’s own consciousness never rested either, and it really was a miracle that he was still alive now. But the damage had been done, both physically and mentally. The bard slept soundly only due to sleeping potions prescribed by the Phronistery to keep him from reliving the experience in his dreams.

Rahela reached down to gingerly brush his bangs out of his eyes, fingers slowly ghosting over his skin, warm but paler than it used to be. Then cupping his cheek, and feeling his pulse, just because. Finally, breathing in and out, she entwined his fingers within his hair, and all was right in the realm.

The adventurer could never explain why, but ever since she was a child, she’d loved the feeling of running her hands through things like hair and fur. There were countless times where Rah couldn’t sleep comfortably because her blankets weren’t the right texture; too stiff, too rough, too coarse… And then there were the nervous tics like nail-biting, lip-chewing, tail-fussing, her mother or sister always had to remind her not do those things in public. But here there was no one to judge.

Here she could get lost in her senses, and combing her digits through Thancred’s thick snow-white hair was soothing beyond explanation. Gods, the feeling of curling the locks around her fingers was one that she missed dearly these long weeks. And she was beyond grateful that he was still here at all. Remembering how close he came to slipping out of the mortal realm forever, and those many terrifying, uncertain hours after escaping the Praetorium, it made her shudder and want to hold him all the more tighter.

She shifted her body, from leaning over him to laying down beside him, and slid her fingers out of his hair, to instead run them along his face. For longer than she bothered to keep track of, she just lay there, studying and relearning the landscape of his handsome features. The slope of his brow, the jutting of his cheekbones, the curve of his jawline, memorizing so she would never forget again.

For what it was worth, she knew Thancred wouldn’t mind her touching his face like this. He knew she was often tactile in expression, conveying emotion through touch; reassurance would be a squeezing of someone’s shoulder or arm, hugging as an expression of happiness, or even something as intimate as sharing a bed with someone to show her level of comfort with them. (Clothed, naturally.) By now, nearly every member of the inner circle of the Scions has had Rahela in their bed at some point. Though in some cases it was without their knowledge, and after a thorough scolding from Papalymo she always remembered to ask first before cuddling.

Thancred, on the other hand, was always welcoming. On the rare occasions he actually slept instead of working, he enjoyed Rahela's company. (The first time she snuggled up to him, he quipped that he slept much better having a warm body next to him, though this marked the first time in recent memory that said body had been clothed.) So he didn’t mind her playing with his hair during a rare idle moment, and in fact, he would often return the favor, appreciatively ruffling her hair, or playfully poking her cheek. Even when he was exhausted and listless, he did this for her, in order to alleviate her growing worries about his well-being. And, fool that she had been, she believed him. She believed him, trusted him, cared for him, because he did the same for her. He believed in her when early tribulations and perils had nearly intimidated her into giving up the path of the adventurer; he trusted her to be able to handle dangerous situations even when she didn’t trust herself, finally trusting her enough to welcome her into the Scions; and he cared for her enough to carry her back all the way to Camp Drybone when her battle with Ifrit left her too weak and injured to stand, and to stay at her bedside while she was regaining her strength, and to accept all the odd quirks that came along with her. Those were just some parts of how she came to love being around him. And hells, who was she kidding, she loved _him_.

Eventually, Rahela started to grow tired. Her hands settled, coming to rest over Thancred’s chest, feeling the even rise and fall of his lungs and the steady beating of his heart. Seeing him so peaceful now was a far cry from when he was awake. During the day, he looked haunted, nervous, as if he thought himself in a suspiciously calm dream, expecting to awaken to a nightmarish reality and go back to being Lahabrea’s puppet. So Rah decided, she would stay beside him, in case his sleeping potions failed to suppress the nightmares, so he wouldn’t be alone with his fears. It was the least she could do to see to his well-being: protecting him from the demons outside and inside his head…

The miqo’te carefully crawled under the covers to snuggle up against him, under the crook of his arm, taking his hand in hers. She laid a soft kiss upon his brow, and whispered into his ear, “ _Good night, Thancred. I’ll be right here when you wake up, so don’t worry, okay? I’m here, and you’re here, and you’re free and you’re safe now. This is all real. I promise. So sleep well. I love you._ ”

X | x | x | X

The highlander guard that had been standing watch outside the room had decided that enough time had passed since the adventurer was admitted into Thancred’s room, and that this was too long for her to simply be checking on him; she’d been suspiciously jumpy when she’d been asking for permission, but he didn’t see a problem at the time. But now he was starting to wonder. Cautiously, he opened the door and peeked inside; and he was surprised to see the Warrior of Light had gotten into the Scion’s bed and was now sleeping soundly, curled up against him, their hands clasped together, and looking so content that she seemed to be a different person from the stuttering, nervous girl who had entered. Seeing this, he decided against waking either of them up; the guard only knew as much as the rumors said and what his employers had told him, but the way he saw it, both of them had quite frankly been through all seven hells. They deserved a decent rest.


End file.
